


Over the Rainbow

by spikesgirl58



Series: ABBA/Foothills [69]
Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chef is exhausted and Napoleon knows one way to make him relax a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over the Rainbow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sparky955](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparky955/gifts).



 “Here we are!”  Napoleon pulled the rental car over and carefully parked it off the pavement.

Illya looked up from the travel guide he was reading and looked around.  “Where is the hotel?”

“No hotel.  We are staying there.”  He pointed to a structure across the street.   It was closely flanked by houses that were nearly cookie cutter replicas.

“We left Jackson for this?”  Illya shut the book and undid his seatbelt.  “When you said a getaway, I thought we were going to get away.  All I see is a house.”

“It’s not just a house, Illya.  It was Judy Garland’s house.”

 “Napoleon, unless she’s a chef, a restaurant critic or someone else in the industry, my circle is very small.  Who is she?” 

“ _The Wizard of Oz_.”

“She’s a chef from Australia?  Okay, that might be why I haven’t heard from her.  Their industry is…”  Illya trailed off at Napoleon’s glare.  His hand went to his mouth in case he’d not wiped something from it.  It was tricky eating in a car and it had been years since he’d had to.  “What?” 

“You’re really something, you know that?”  Napoleon unhooked his seatbelt and opened the car door.  His good mood of a few moments ago was tempered by Illya’s ignorance.

“What?”

“ _The Wizard of Oz_ is probably one of the grandest movies ever made.  They even released it to TV a few years ago.”

“Napoleon, when I was training, we didn’t even own a TV.  We either had to go to a bar or a friend’s house to watch anything.  Very rarely did we have time to do either.”

“It was one not that long ago.  It’s on nearly every Easter night.”

“I was sleeping Easter night after twenty hours of prepping and cooking.”  Illya got out of the car and stretched his back.  Even though he was retired, Matt had asked for his help with the Easter buffet and Illya had risen to the cause, no pun intended, only to spend the next few days recovering.

“It was a fabulous movie and this was her house.  It overlooks the Pacific Ocean – can’t you hear the surf?”  Napoleon climbed out as well and lifted his face to the sky.  It was gray and overcast, but that didn’t dampen his happiness.  He was by the sea again and the surf, the cry of seagulls, the dinging of a distant buoy, all of these was balm to his soul.

“Was?  She sold it?”

“She died.”

“Awkward.  So why are we here?”

“It was sold a few years ago and it’s a rental now.  I thought it would be nice for us to just stay here for a few days.”  Napoleon held up the house key.  He’d been trying for years to rent the place, but it was either not available or Illya wasn’t.

“Why?”

“Illya, do you have a romantic bone in your body?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“What’s today?”

“February 12th.  All those red hearts?  They don’t clue you in to something?”

Illya’s eyes widened slightly.  “I’m sorry, Napoleon.  I live in a vacuum.”  

“You really aren’t the wife in the relationship, are you?”  Napoleon was a bit surprised that Illya had been totally  oblivious to the holiday.

“You knew that when you married me.” Illya gestured to the light blue house and nodded.  “It’s lovely. How long do we have it?”

“A week.”  However, it was too little, too late.  Napoleon’s elation withered like a released balloon.   He walked to the trunk and popped it open.  He’d thought of everything, except that his partner would be clueless.  Napoleon should have realized that would all be for naught.   He pulled out their suitcase, but left the picnic hamper behind.  He had a feeling that if he suggested a picnic, Illya would begin a lecture on the dangers of unrefrigerated food.

Checking both ways for traffic, he picked up the suitcases and began to carry them across.  Illya joined him and took one from him.

“I am sorry, my love.”  Illya did his best to sound contrite.  “It was just hard these days.  When I was cooking, I knew when all the major holidays were because the work demanded it.  Now I can barely remember what day of the week it is.  As long as I’m with you, it just doesn’t seem important if it’s Monday or Friday.”

“I know.”  Napoleon smiled slightly as they got to the gate.  “The days go by so fast now.  It’s hard for me   as well.”  It wasn’t that this was anything new.  It was just different.  They were so frequently in sync with one another that when they weren’t, it was really glaring.

They walked into the house and Napoleon went through to the living room picture window and opened the curtains.  His gasp was enough to bring Illya to his side.

“Napoleon, what’s wrong?”

“When they said on the water, I didn’t think they meant actually on the water.”  He opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the deck.  The house was perched on the cliffs, with the Pacific Ocean lapping at its base.  The water opened before them blending into the sky.  “Look at this view.”

Illya’s arms went around Napoleon’s waist.  “I am.”  He rested his head against Napoleon’s shoulder.

“Don’t try to make up,” Napoleon muttered, pressing back against Illya.  “I am truly hurt.”

“Why don’t I make you a nice dinner that we can eat in front of the fireplace?”  Illya whispered in his ear.  “I’m assuming the place has a kitchen.”

“It does and they told me there is a good market down the road.  Do you want me to go with you?”

“You know how I am when I’m shopping, Napoleon.  Why don’t you relax and enjoy the view.  I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.”

“That will be the day.”

                                                                                ****

Napoleon sipped the wine and regarded the bottle.  It was nearly empty and Illya still hadn’t returned.    Napoleon had spent the first hour on the wide lounge chair, watching the seagulls ride the wind currents.  Even though it was February, the day was enticingly pleasant.  Back in the Foothills, it would be warming as well, but not like this.   He’d turned his face to the sun and let it bake his bones.

The next hour he’d unpacked their clothes, set up the bathroom as they liked it and checked out ever nook and cranny of the house.  He’d even taken the precaution of slipping a tube of K-Y into the nightstand for later that night, just in case.

The third hour Napoleon took a short walk through the neighborhood, only to return to a still- empty house.   He’d hoped to find Illya puttering away in the kitchen, but he didn’t.   Napoleon tried not to panic, but it was starting to border on the absurd.   Annoyance melted into anxiety and Napoleon was considering calling the police when the front door opened.

“Finally,” Napoleon whispered.  Picking up his glasses, he stood up and walked in from the deck.  “Do you need help?”

Illya set a box down on the counter. “No, there are just a couple more bags.”  He plucked Napoleon’s glass from his hand and sampled the wine.  “That’s good.  I didn’t buy any wine because I figured… what?”

“Where have you been?”  Napoleon tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“You know where I was.  At the store, shopping.  You should see their fish selection.  Then they gave me the name of a bakery and I stopped in there.  As things turned out, I knew their head baker from school.  We talked for a while.  Have I been gone very long?”

“That was four hours ago.”

“Oh, guess I lost track of time.”

Napoleon got another glass from the wine rack.  “Yeah, I guess you did.”  He walked back out to the deck and emptied the rest of bottle into the glass.  That accomplished, he dropped back into the lounge and stared off at the restless sea.

He sat there for a long time, trying to get a handle on why this was bothering him so much.  Illya was always the wanderer when it came to grocery shopping.  It was nothing for him to take a half hour to select a piece of fruit or vegetable. 

The sun had dropped behind the horizon and the sky was a splash of reds, purples, and oranges when the deck door opened.  Napoleon looked over his shoulder.  Illya was carrying a tray, a blanket, and another bottle of wine. 

“Shift it.”  He nodded and Napoleon turned onto his side as Illya set down the tray.  He sat down beside Napoleon.  It was tight squeeze as neither of them possessed the waistline of their youth.  Once they’d gotten comfortable, he spread the blanket over their legs and reached for the bottle of white wine.

Napoleon smiled and held out his glass.  “Is this one of mine?”

“It is.  I would trust my food to no one else.”  Glasses filled, Illya set his aside and grabbed a small white plate off the tray.  It had several small puff pastries on it. He offered the plate to Napoleon.

Napoleon grabbed the closest one and blew on it before popping it into his mouth.  “Incredible.  Sweet, savory, soft, and crisp.  What’s the filling?”

“Caramelized red onions and goat cheese.  Try one with the wine.”

Napoleon did and grinned.  “A triumph.”

“Thanks.  Hopefully, you’ll feel the same way about dinner.”

“What’s on the menu.”

“Later.  Let’s enjoy the view now, shall we?  It will be dark all too soon.“

Napoleon didn’t need any extra encouragement.    He got an arm around Illya and held the man close.  The familiarity was so comforting and encompassing.

“Napoleon?”

“Do you know why I didn’t remember that Valentine’s Day was coming up?”

“Because you have a lousy memory?”

“Because I don’t need to be reminded one day a year how much you mean to me.  I remember it every minute of every day.  There are times I wake up in the morning and you are beside me and I wonder what I did to deserve the love of such an incredible man.”  Illya tiled his head back to look at Napoleon.  “You are a gift far too dear to only take out once a year.”

Napoleon leaned forward and kissed him.  “For a quiet guy, you sure have a way with words.”

“Only saying what’s in my heart.  I’m sorry I don’t do that more often.  You deserve someone better.”

“That’s where you are wrong, Partner.”  Napoleon’s arms tightened.  Just like Dorothy, he knew home was not a place or a time, but being with the people who loved you and who you loved right back.  And Napoleon knew he was home.  
  


 


End file.
